


A night out with Ironhide

by AcidGreenFlames



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: Ironhide and the Constructicon's enjoy a kinky night without Megatron's knowledge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot ficlet. Isn't betta'd.

Had a friend who was having a bad day, so after a bit of joking around with my new Constructicon figures, this happened.

_Disclaimer: I still own nothing._

*

Ironhide carefully paced around the five mechs around him, three of them on their knees and unmoving. He didn’t have to have them bound, they knew their place. Knew to stay put.

Finger tips graced a green shoulder with a deep chuckle as Ironhide thought that they listened to him better then Megatron. It helped, he supposed, that he treated them better then Megatron ever would have dreamed. Who would have thought the Constructicons would be so responsive to a little positivity? To being treated like they were worth a damn, and not just fodder?  

They met in secret, the Constructicons needing what Ironhide was willing to give them, and Ironhide was _sure_ he wasn’t the only Autobot who had a Decepticon on the side. There were far too many _almost_ hits for it to be coincidence.

Scrapper shuttered, arching ever so slightly into the touch at his shoulder and Ironhide tutted.

“Ya was told,” he said gently, his voice alone causing another shutter to race through the Constructicon’s leader. “Ta stay still. Ya aren’t disobeying ma rules, are ya Scrapper?”

“N-no Sir.” Scrapper stumbled over his words; they had started this out with them calling him ‘master’. Ironhide had told them to call him ‘Sir’ only after their first encounter.

Master was what Megatron forced them to call him, and Ironhide was not Megatron.

“Then why are ya shutter’n? Doesn’t _that_ count as move’n?” Ironhide smirked, knowing that every answer Scrapper would give him would be the wrong one.

Helpless crimson optics flashed to where Bonecrusher lay still on his back on the wide berth; frame still hot and panting, tingling with the pleasure from the things Ironhide had done to him. Things he had _begged_ Ironhide to do to him.

“Want to…want to be next.” Scrapper gasped, frame trembling with need. Already the seams of his valve cover were soaking with lubricant. “Please Sir?” he begged.

It brought a grin to Ironhide’s face and his spike harden between his thighs.

“Ah would Scrapper. But ya can’t follow orders. Ya was told ta stay still, and you haven’t. Ya was also told ta bring ya whole team, and Hook is missing.” Ironhide tutted sadly as he circled him.

Scrapper whined and widened his legs. “But, he had duty last minute! I couldn’t- he couldn’t!”

Ironhide tutted and shushed Scrapper as he came back around to face him, thumb brushing at a lower lip. “So many excuses Scrapper.” He tutted again. “An’ you just can’t flow the simple order of staying still, can ya?”

Scrapper had no response to that, other then a needy whimper and a squirm.

“As ah had thought.” Ironhide chuckled, fingers sliding from his lower lip and down his chin.

“Ya’ll go last.” Ironhide informed him, voice soft and teasing.

Scrapper whimpered as Ironhide walked away, unbound hands clenching and unclenching behind him, but he kept his arms where they had been ordered to stay.

The Autobot walked by Longhaul with a smirk, still focused on Scrapper. His fingertips grazed along a bright green collar flair, yet Longhaul remained perfectly still.

“Such a well behaved Decepticon.” Ironhide praised gently with a smirk.

Longhaul nodded. “Thank you Sir.”

Ironhide smirked and gently pet Longhaul’s chin with the backs of his fingers. “Such a good Decepticon.” He praised. “You may touch yourself until it’s ya turn.”

Ironhide felt a flicker of enjoyment and pleasure in Longhaul’s EM field as his hand trailed down his belly to wrap tightly around his spike. “Thank you Sir.” He husked deeply.

Ironhide smirked and gently brushed Longhaul’s chin again before he turned away to Mixmaster; Ironhide had bend him over a table, hands gripping the edge while his forhelm pressed into the metal of the table.

The toy that Ironhide had pressed into his soaking valve vibrating strongly, lubrication dripping down Mixmaster’s thighs from his closed valve panel. His frame shuttered and panted, Mixmaster doing everything in his power to hold off his over load.

The Autobot smirked as he strode over, hand coming to gently gloss over the heated interface panel.

“Ai, Mixmaster. Ya’ve done so well, haven’t ya?” Ironhide asked with a smirk, fingers still teasing around the edges of the interface panel.

“Y-Yes Sir.” He gasped.

“Still haven’t over loaded, have ya?” Ironhide asked, tapping the interface panel. “Open.” He ordered.

The panel popped open immediately, and Ironhide eased the long, vibrating toy out. Mixmaster gave an uncharacteristic whine, gripping the edge of the table tighter and panting into the metal.

“N-No Sir. I’ve been good.” He whined. They had been working on not over loading until Ironhide had given them their order to do so, and this had been the longest they had gone.

Ironhide smirked, and allowed his engine to purr. “Very proud of ya.” He said gently as he pressed two fingers into the writhing, clenching channel, Mixmaster crying out in pleasure while his aft pressed into Ironhide’s touch.

“T-T-Thank you Sir.” Mixmaster gasped as Ironhide thrust slowly with his fingers.

Chuckling, he asked. “Do ya want it right and proper?”

“Y-yes Sir.” Mixmaster nearly sobbed, his face suddenly pressed into the back of his hand.

Ironhide smirked as he pulled his fingers from Mixmaster’s clenching valve and lined his spike up with the wet channel, and thrust in deeply. “That’s ma mech.” He purred at Mixmaster’s cry of pleasure.

As Ironhide began to thrust hard, behind them Longhaul moaned deeply as his hand squeezed at his own spike and Scrapper whined in need.

Looking up, still thrusting, Ironhide caught Scavenger’s optics. “Ya wanna be next Scav?”

Scavenger’s visor flashed brightly and a shutter raced through his massive frame. “Yes Sir! I-I’ve been good!” he gasped.

Ironhide smirked, pleasure rushing through his frame at that needy tone, Mixmaster’s hot, wet valve clenched at his spike.

It was going to be a wonderful night.    


End file.
